Rain and Shine
by The Ordinary Calligrapher
Summary: In the metropolitan jungle of London, two strangers meet in the rain, and change each other's lives for the better, in their own seemingly insignificant ways. As their worlds change around them, will they endure, or break without each other? Human AU. SpUK. Mild PruBela. I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia, its characters, or the cover image. Rated T for themes and language.
1. London and Its Charms

**Warning: Mild selfcest, character death, language, suicide and depression.  
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Chapter 1

London and its Charms

_An Introduction to Our Two Protagonists_

The city hadn't seen many worse days. The constant downpour of rain clashed violently with any surface it could find, and created an angry roar that sent bolts of anxiety through the citizens. From these various surfaces, the window of one of the finest houses of the city was not exempted. The 21st floor of a swanky apartment building consisted of a poorly maintained, 2-bedroom flat that betrayed no hints of its owner's past. Houses often see more grief than most humans. And the most unfortunate part is that they must serve as a constant reminder of painful incidents, for they cannot move away from their sadness. They are forbidden from forgetting. This particular flat's resident was no different from the house itself, forced to remain in one place, with all his experiences.

In one of the several bathrooms in the house, a young banker had been clutching his head and making an effort to keep his breathing steady for the past several hours. The effects of the sleeping pills had worn off, leaving him only with his thoughts, leaning against the cold tiles, and mustering up the courage to look at his reflection. It was harder than he had expected. Every time his vision caught a glint of green, his line of sight would fall to the floor, and he would give up that attempt in particular. Head bent, he let out a loud exhale and jerked his head upward to see himself. And this time, he forced his head to stay in that position. Sticky cheeks, and bloodshot eyes, that's what he was expecting. He had been crying ever since he realized which day it was.

But what he saw was almost worse. His hair was messy and matted, due to him running dirty hands through it in frustration. His cheekbones were oddly prominent, even though he had been eating adequately. His lips were cracked and pale, as though they hadn't touched water for days. And of course, his eyes. They were tired-looking, the glimmering emerald green becoming a dull forest color with no light in them. It scared him, how much he had changed. Rewind to maybe 2 and a half years before, and you would see a man who almost always had sparkling eyes, and a smile on his face. Of course, back then, things were very different. He had her.

Alice Windsor was one of the most interesting girls at his college, that was for sure. She had an aura about her, that screamed 'petty and stern'. But when circumstances brought him and her together to work on a project, they got to know each other, and found out that they were quite similar. It took a while, but the steel-hearted Englishman fell for her. Even after they had passed out of college, they lived together in London. Almost 5 years after their first meeting, he proposed to her, and she accepted. It was like a fairytale, they would get married and live happily ever after. A few months before their planned wedding, Alice was required to visit Canada, so she flew to Toronto. The immediate memories of those moments were fragmented, but a few news headlines could be pieced together. Plane crashes in the middle of the Atlantic. No survivors found. That was the fateful day Arthur Kirkland gave up on love and happiness, and decided that both were just fantasies that existed to deceive.

Two years had passed, but Arthur still remembered the date. It was her birthday. Last year, he had visited her grave and given her what could be called a status report. Just sitting in front of the cold, gray stone and telling her everything he felt. And of course, how much he missed her. This year, he would do the same, without fail. And as much as he would've liked to visit her immediately, she wouldn't have wanted him to miss his work for her. Feeling the smooth black tiles under the skin of his palms and the pressure on his lower back, he soon came to the realization that he was on the floor, slumped against the wall. He grunted and picked himself up, proceeding to wash his face, making him look a bit fresher than he was previously. The cool water tingled on his cheeks, making him sigh in slight relief. Taking a shower quickly, Arthur tried to regain his focus. He could only take a shower in warm, almost boiling water for some odd reason, even in the middle of summer. It left his pale skin dry, even though he didn't really give a damn. He had thankfully bothered to drop by the laundromat the previous day, meaning that his clothes probably wouldn't give him a life threatening infection from sitting at the back of his closet for months. Although, now that he thought about it, it wouldn't be too bad…

After struggling to keep his eyes open for more than 6 seconds at a time, Arthur massaged his chest and grunted yet again. There was something lodged in his windpipe that made his voice throaty and hoarse, and his head heavy. Was he catching a cold? He hadn't caught one in months, but now was always a good time. He dressed himself idly, not finding it hard to pick out a single white t-shirt from his array of the same. Picking out a suit wasn't hard either. What were really hard were the umbrellas. Like any proud resident of the United Kingdom, Arthur had a collection of different umbrellas. Some were colorful and bright, those which he had used only with her. Others were dark grey and black, the ones he regularly used. After Alice passed, he felt no need for aesthetic appeal with his umbrellas. As he was going to visit her today, he figured that she would want him to have one of her favorites, so he pried a plaid one with checks off the stand and grasped the doorknob of his front door firmly. Just another day in his pathetic life, and he would make the most of it.

Just as he stepped out of his apartment, he smelled rain. Someone had left a window open, bringing in the wafting petrichor to everyone who was awake. But Arthur didn't mind. In his 27 years of existence, he hadn't met a single person who didn't like the smell of wet mud and rain. He stormed off toward the elevator praying that no one was already there, because he really hated seeing people so early in the morning, or worse, being forced to make conversation. The day was going splendidly, because the weird red-haired happy guy who lived directly above Arthur was in the lift, and grinned at him. Arthur forcefully smiled, knowing that his neighbor would be sad if he didn't. It worked, because the neighbor grinned at him back and gave him a little wave. "Buon giorno!" he greeted.

Giving him a stiff nod, Arthur climbed into the elevator and leaned against the wall, the railing stabbing his back. The Italian next to him shifted from foot to foot inwardly, making Arthur turn to his right and scowl, as not wanting to be seen. Silly optimists, with their heads full of sunshine and happiness. All they needed was a swift reality check. And if there was a place where Arthur could apply to be the person who gives that reality check, he would sign up in the blink of an eye. However, he didn't know if he wanted to do it just to inflict pain, or to help them from the pain. Frowning, he pinched himself. Why did he find it so easy to just slip into a philosophical, 'questioning morality' state?

He slipped out of the elevator without exchanging a single word with his neighbor, wanting to brave the downpour and make it to his office as soon as possible. He stepped out into the rain, the thin soles of his boots instantly getting soaked. The air was ridiculously frosty, and Arthur shivered and exhaled sharply, looking around at the pedestrians that didn't mind the rain at all. A car passed by on the main road, splashing Arthur's trousers with water. "Watch it, you bloody wanker!" cried Arthur angrily. Seeing that he had attracted quite a lot of unnecessary attention, he glanced at the crowd staring back at him, hiding his slight inhibition.

Huffing as he did so, he took quick, brisk steps to his office, just about a block away from his residence. Being a banker sounded great in textbooks, and in a way, it was, considering all the money that you got from it. But then, the job turned out to be one of the most dull tedious jobs in the universe. Dealing with arseholes and morons just made it seem like high school all over again.

The workplace was quite silent today, with just maybe 15 people bustling around as through the universe was at balance. Not many customers, which was to be expected with the weather and time. But even so, the people there seemed lethargic, with sunken eyes and yawning mouths. Arthur paid no heed to the zombies walking around and swiftly went to the reception to announce that he was here.

"Arthur Kirkland," he muttered, distracted.  
>The receptionist was new, and therefore, didn't know who he was. Cheekily blowing out a bubble of her chewing gum, she tapped a few keys on her computer and addressed him. "You're working a half day today?" Her dark eyes squinted at him suspiciously.<br>"Yes, I am," snapped Arthur irritably. "What's it to you, anyway?"  
>The almond shaped eyes glimmered with slight fascination before she asked rather impertinently,"Why?"<br>At this point, Arthur didn't even want to make a rude reply. He just looked away and muttered, "It's personal."  
>This seemed to make the receptionist regret asking him. She apologized under her breath, and muttered," I shouldn't have tried to pry. Go on, Mr. Kirkland. Have a nice day."<br>While his lips didn't move, his eyes brightened up a bit, which was the closest he could get to smiling. "Thanks. You too." The receptionist's sad eyes lingered on him for a while before he was out of view.

Taking yet another elevator, empty this time, Arthur made it to the 6th floor, where he hoped he would reach his office without any inconvenience. His luck just wasn't with him that day.

"Hey, Artie!" cried a young voice. Alfred F. Jones. He didn't even get the sufficient education before applying for a job here, but somehow rose up the ranks pretty quickly. Arthur suspected bribery or brown-nosing.  
>"Yes, Alfred? Do you need something?"<br>"Whatcha doing?" Clearly, the American was just, plain bored.  
>"Trying to do my job and earn money. Which is what you should be doing too." Alfred sighed.<br>"There's nothing to do, no one here and life is boring~I have no one but Francis to talk to, and he's a weirdo..."

Arthur did have to admit, he had a point. Francis was the one man the Englishman would like to shoot and hang by the heels for the rest of the world to see. He had no concern for his job, did nothing to benefit the bank, and molested innocent men and women. Okay, so maybe he just got uncomfortably close to them and said a few creepy things which he thought were socially acceptable pick-up-lines, but that was still technically harassment. "I'm going to my office, you deal with the frog. If it comes to that, file a court case, I'll get a lawyer."

Alfred nodded in response, taking Arthur's words seriously. God, he really was that stupid. But then again, it wasn't really an exaggeration on the Brit's part. Thank goodness, he was Alfred's superior in the pecking order of jobs in the bank, and had a private, air conditioned office where he could spend his pathetic existence in peace.

With this thought, he strode off, suddenly feeling better.

* * *

><p>A single drop of water trickled down the awning, making several turns before deciding to finally submit to gravity. It did, landing on a shapely nose, the cold sensation making green eyes flutter open, and a groan escape from parched lips. The young man sat up slowly, straightening his spine and stretching his arms, before slinking back against the iron shutters. Yet another day of trying to get something to eat. Feeling the presence on his right, he turned, to see his pale best friend, still sound asleep, even drooling from the edge of his mouth. With a chuckle, he whispered, "Close your mouth, Gil.." knowing that he wouldn't be heard. On his left was his second closest friend, cuddled up in a mess of her own clothing and a fairly clean mattress they had found outside a house. She had a sour expression on her face as she slept. But he guessed that was part of her character.<p>

It was the morning after a particularly rough night, and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was ready to conquer the world.

Knowing that after the course of one or two hours, the guards would come and tell them to buzz off, Antonio sighed and shook his friends gently. "Wake up…" The first to wake was the girl, blinking and groaning. "Toni…God, I hate you…" Her thin hand reached out from under a bed-sheet to smack him, moving far too slowly to hit its target. She stuck her head out from under the covers and yawned. Natalya Arlovskaya, 24, really, really angry and sleep-deprived. Antonio had met her about 4 months previously, on an exceptionally bright day. She'd managed to make it to London after escaping from Minsk. Why exactly she did so wasn't clear, but with the hints she had dropped, it had something to do with her family. Now, with only two 'friends' and nowhere to stay, she was grumbling under the awning of an abandoned leather store in a quiet part of the city. A great existence, indeed.

Then there was Gilbert Beilschmidt. He and Antonio had been friends since high school, but when both of their prospects of a decent job shriveled up, they decided that if they were going to be homeless and below the poverty line, they'd be together. Two losers trudging through life, with not a care in the world.

After a few gentle (ish) nudges, he managed to gain a bit of sense, even though he was still half asleep. "I don't wanna get up!" he whined, making an attempt to push Antonio away.  
>"Do you want to eat?" asked Natalya dryly.<br>"Yeah…Toni, go get me a sandwich…" The Spaniard laughed.  
>"Sure, Gil, you want some mustard on that?"<br>With a weak nod, his friend replied, "Pickles too…"  
>Having reached the limit of her annoyance, Natalya punched him in the stomach, making him howl in pain and cry, "I'm up! I'm up! I am so up! Geez, lady!" Natalya was looking awfully satisfied with herself.<p>

Groaning, Gilbert threw away his pathetically thin blankets and hissed the second he saw the dark clouds swirling in the sky. "Gott, is it too much to ask to have some kind of weather besides the fucking rain?!"

Antonio ruffled his hair playfully. "Well, guess what, we're in London. What did you expect? Sunshine and rainbows and more homeless shelters with vacant beds." Natalya sighed. "Too soon, Toni? Not everyone is as happy as you are…" Antonio chuckled. "I've been on the streets longer than you both…the only thing that keeps me straight its being positive…now get up! The guards will be here any second. Venga!"

He jumped up to his feet as Natalya followed. Her hair was a massive wreck of blonde that went all the way to her waist. She hadn't washed it in a while, so the least she could do was tie it into a massive bun that could smack people in the face, or braid it, making it look like a jute rope. On that day, she had decided to just fuck everything and let it be, in its wild glory. (Frankly, Gilbert was both scared and turned on by her, he'd said so himself.)

A few pigeons flew overhead, cooing obnoxiously. But, as homeless person would know, pigeons could be a gift, or a curse, depending on the situation, so Antonio had learned to respect them over time. Natalya hated them, even thought they hadn't harmed anything belonging to her. She hated everything, except maybe Toni and Gil because she hadn't murdered them yet. To her that was the equivalent of a box of chocolates.

The trio made for a more upscale part of the city, somewhere they could get a decent bite to eat and stay well away from the violent sort of guards and police officers. Of course, it came with the downside of getting dirty looks from the posh bankers and businessmen on the sidewalks, but the time was around 10 in the morning, and Antonio guessed that everyone would be at work by that time, keeping the streets vacant. As soon as they stepped onto the 'Wall Street' of the city, they heard fancy shoes and voices babbling about stocks into state of the art phones that really didn't do anything useful but look good.

"Plan A or Plan B?" asked Gilbert, crossing his arms in deep contemplation. Natalya smacked his arm and hissed, "We're not millionaires, asshole. It's either the homeless shelter 2 blocks away or that Far East restaurant around the corner that's nice to us. It's pretty obvious which one is better." The owners of the deli were two brothers that didn't get together at all, but had a soft spot for the trio. Every now and then they'd have some extra rice or dishes that got messed up and they'd be generous. Even so, they didn't always have food left. "They won't even be open in the morning, Nat."

"Toni, I don't have too much hope in life, at least let me fucking have this, please," Natalya took brisk steps ahead of the two, clearly indicating that she was in an extremely sensitive mood. Gilbert rolled his eyes and whispered to Antonio,"I don't understand her at all. Have you ever seen her smile?" Toni nodded. "Si, once, when you were asleep and I made some crack about you drooling." Gilbert groaned and smacked his forehead. "The one time she laughs, and it's at me." Toni sighed. "She's a tough nut...even your 'charms' can't snag her."

The Spaniard wasn't pay attention to the people around him, and so something heavy bumped into Antonio, causing him to lose his footing, before his right foot slipped into position and managed to keep him from falling over. "Oh, sorry, I-" He stopped before he finished, completely overwhelmed by the sheer presence of the man he had bumped into. Tall, fat and stern looking, with glasses perched in extreme proximity to the very tip of his nose. His suit screamed of high class and fashion, and Antonio had the disturbing feeling that he could work for months and months and still not have enough to buy a strand of the thread used to make it. The man gave him an irritated look and muttered something extremely rude along the lines of 'filth'.

With a gulp, Antonio apologized again and jogged up to Gilbert and Natalya, who had paused to wait for him. "I know that bastard," Natalya told him. "He's the one who runs this bank." She glanced up toward the large sign on the building they were in front of. "I hate this place, it reminds me of everything I could've been but decided to throw away..." murmured Gil. "You okay,Toni?" The brunette nodded. "Si, si, I'm fine, I just..." Natalya almost violently grabbed his arm and remarked, "This place is full of entitled douchebags, so let's get out of here before someone sues you for looking at them." Antonio snickered and rapidly agreed.

The trio took one more turn before finding it. The Dragon's Abode. Cheesy name for a Chinese/Japanese restaurant, but its food was great. Its maroon, wooden doors had golden patterns embellished on them, inviting strangers into its welcoming arms. Okay, so that's where the whole thing flops. While the door and the name made it look like something straight out of a TV show, the interiors of the shop were not really very well maintained at all. On the inside, the shop had simple wooden tables and white walls, with nothing but a few lamps scattered here and there. The two owners constantly bugged each other about making improvements, not wanting to admit to themselves that they didn't nearly have the money to.

"Yo!" Gilbert pushed open the door and let himself in, causing a groan and a chuckle to simultaneously split the air. "Back again, aru? This is the fourth time this week! We're not going to be able to feed you for much longer, you know!" Yao Wang. Thirty something, and as crabby as anyone could get. One of the several things that annoyed him was his cousin, Kiku Honda. Far younger, with more job prospects, but being forced to work at this failed restaurant because it was a so called 'family business'. Needless to say, they didn't quite like each other.

"You have something?" Natalya was a rather 'to the point' person when it came to dealing with the two. Kiku nodded and answered, "We might have some extra rice in the back...I'll make you some miso soup to go along with it?" Yao elbowed him in the chest and hissed, "Idiot! Why do you have to waste all our food on them? They're not even paying, aru!" Kiku glared at him and said, "_Atoru wa toran ga tame. _Those who give will receive." He went to the pantry to get out the rice.

Taking a seat at one of the minimalist tables, Toni called out," One day, Yao, I promise we'll pay you back for everything!" The Chinese man rolled his eyes. "Get yourself to a subsistence level and we'll see." Kiku brought over the rice and soup a few moments later, serving them with genuine care. The three ate at the speed of light, not wanting to waste a single moment that could be better spent earning something. Natalya was the first to finish her meal, and leaned back into her chair contentedly. "Well, now that I'll probably survive for a few more hours, I have to get to work." Gilbert scoffed, but quickly covered it up by drinking some water. _  
><em>

Natalya didn't really have a steady job. She went around distributing pamphlets and putting up posters for maybe a couple of pounds a day, and at night, tended the bar of a cheap nightclub very far away. Gilbert was far better off, he had a job as a playground monitor in a primary school. He earned enough to get a small flat, but not enough to support all three of them. And being the idiot that he was, Gil preferred sleeping on the streets with friends than living in an apartment alone. Antonio just went around, played his guitar for tips. and fantasized about being discovered by a talent agent. The usual.

Natalya thanked the owners of 'The Dragon's Abode' for the meals and sped out of the restaurant, almost with a passion. "I've never seen her so excited about putting up posters for college election campaigns..." mumbled Gil with suspicion. Toni shrugged. "I'll be off too. Today, I think I'll play something with a faster tempo." Antonio grinned at Yao cheekily and waltzed outside, glad that the sun was out.

* * *

><p>AN: Oh, wow, a multi-chaptered SpUK fanfic without them being pirates?! Okay, so one major difference this fic will have from most SpUK fics is that the characters don't have a history of hate, as they often do in Canon and Pirate AUs.  
>Anyway, I feel that SpUK is a ship that needs and deserves so much more love than it gets. So, one thing I absolutely had to do was write a fanfic for the pairing, and not just a little oneshot. I got the idea for a somewhat mellow, angsty SpUK thing. Nothing like Scholarship. Few bits of sunshine and funny moments. And this happened. Ack. Even if you don't ship it, I hope you enjoy it!<p> 


	2. Light and Dark

Chapter 2

Light and Dark

_Our protagonists meet for the first time._

There were quite a few things that Arthur could be nitpicky about. But his office wasn't included in the exceptionally long list. The efforts of the cleaning staff really came through with the sparkling gold and silver awards and spotless red carpet. The room was far too big, Arthur decided. Practically the only fault he could find with it, and even that was half-arsed. To most, it wasn't even a fault. It was the second biggest and best furnished office of the bank, second only to the owner of the corporation's. The rest of the workers might have been a little jealous, but Arthur had no objections to letting them work in the same room as him, as long as they didn't feel the need to make conversation every 2 seconds when he was working.

He couldn't blame them, really. The office's lovely cushioned wooden chairs were surprisingly comfortable, and the maroon tables polished and varnished, almost inviting you to sit down and do a long budget review. However, as attractive and warm the office was, Arthur would've liked nothing better than to emigrate to Antarctica and never touch a file again. Not only had he been conducting interviews for a communications post all morning, but had also approved, reviewed and signed exactly 26 files, dealing from construction, to hoteliers, to animation. His head was pounding like someone was banging on it with an XXL-sledgehammer. 3 more files, Arthur. Then you can visit Alice. He wished that he could send all his subordinates back to kindergarten, so that they'd at least learn to write in that wonderful elementary cursive. Otherwise, they either wrote like they were on roller-coasters, or had secretly learnt Elvish.

The files lay in a neat pile at the very corner of his desk, signifying that he wanted to pay as little time and attention to them as possible. He gave them one final look, before letting out a groan and extending his hand to grab them. For a second he couldn't, mainly because he wasn't looking at them, but his hand soon found the hard beige paper, and pulled them over. The first one seemed to have been written by a drunkard, as they only word Arthur could make out in a 16-sentence paragraph was 'fluctuating'.

Soon, with time and perseverance, Arthur signed all three, leaving a snarky comment on each one.

Groaning, he leaned back into his chair, sighing and closing his eyes. He kept this stance for some time before picking himself up, even feeling his joints creak. Making his way to the coat-stand, he reached around for his coat a few times before finally getting a hold of it, due to the fact that his eyes were almost completely shut. He slipped it on, still in his beaten state, before clearing his throat and going over to the window. The sun was dull, and looked almost faded, and there were swarming clouds surrounding it threateningly, but it seemed to persist. It'd hopefully remain like that for a while.

He walked out of his office wordlessly, getting a single stare from his secretary, Madeline.

Her interview was a day he remembered clearly, even though it wasn't a good one. He'd seen someone on the road that looked like Alice, and had grumblingly entered his office, before remembering that his secretary had sent in his resignation weeks ago. He was to interview new candidates that very day, and really wasn't in the mood to tolerate anyone.

After a rather impertinent young man with hair that tried to grasp the ceiling, Arthur felt that he could just throw his clipboard of criteria at the people wanting to be hired and give the job to the person who caught it, like a bouquet at a wedding. He sunk into his chair, not even noticing that the next applicant had walked in. Her gait was pretty awkward, shuffling, with a bag that slipped from her shoulders every few seconds.

Arthur had raised his head slightly in acknowledgement and mumbled a faint 'go on', to give her the cue to begin discussing her qualifications. But she didn't. "You seem tired," she commented slowly.

He nodded. "Once you go through 32 applicants, one tends to submit to fatigue."  
>"I understand. If you want, I can come back tomorrow and let you get your rest!"<br>"If I may be frank with you, I really don't want a secretary if it's so much hassle…"  
>She giggled. "It must be hard to see person after person…"<br>"Especially if you don't hold a liking for people in general.."  
>"Really? If so, then you'll have quite a time…"<p>

After a few minutes of pleasant small talk, Arthur found that he could actually stand her. In his book, that meant 'hired'. She'd worked well enough for 3 months. She just spoke at 10 decibels.. Otherwise, quite a nice girl. All she needed to do was speak up.

"Are you busy today, Mr. Kirkland?"  
>"Hmm?" Arthur considered the question, before shrugging. "I suppose you could put it that way.."<br>"Anything important? Because you didn't tell me to mark it in your schedule..."  
>"I wouldn't forget it if Hermione cast obliviate on me."<br>She caught his reference, giving a small smile. "Alright then.."

Glad that she was the type not to ask questions, he took off toward the elevator, somehow feeling calm instead of the emotional wreck he had been in the morning. Maybe the files had blocked everything else, or maybe it was that he thought Alice wouldn't want to see him crying. Not being a very religious man, he couldn't exactly believe that she had gone to Heaven and become an angel or something. But having a firm interest in the supernatural hinted at him that she might just hear what he had to say. If he'd died in her place, he would definitely have wanted her to move on with her life. Ironic, considering that it was the exact opposite of what he was doing. He had to appear strong, if only for her.

Funnily enough, the sun was quite powerful in the sky. While surrounded by uneasy, swirling clouds, it seemed to retain its brightness, even if it wasn't to last. As Arthur exited the cosmopolitan area toward the suburbs, he passed by a young girl quite hastily putting up posters. "Where's the flood..?" muttered Arthur, hoping she wouldn't hear. Her silvery hair flowed elegantly as she turned to him and responded, "Fuck off." A little harsh, but the Brit made no comment.

One thing about Arthur, he hated graveyards. Well, it was more like he hated the word 'graveyard'. Cemetery wasn't much of an improvement, but it sure sounded better. In general, no one liked mention of cemeteries or mausoleums, maybe because it reminded them of a foggy creek with thin wire fences and a dramatic, eerie atmosphere. Real graveyards were like parks, but with large stones popping out of the ground in orderly lines. These stones had odd and depressing things engraved on them, but as long as you didn't pay too much attention, you'd be fine.

The gate was old and rickety, made of dark iron. No guard ever stood there; the atmosphere was enough to drive away anyone who thought of grave robbing. But those sorts of crimes only happened on television. The park was bare, with not a single soul anywhere in sight. At least he'd be able to have a chat in peace. Third row, eleventh from the left. When he'd visited it last year, he hadn't remembered where it was, and spent an awkward half hour just roaming around to find 'Alice Windsor'. He had been close to tears by the time he finally found it.

This time round, he was more fortified against a flurry of emotion, and found it immediately. The inscription drew away all his feeling of calm.

'Here lies Alice Windsor, a soul the world could not afford to lose.'

"I met Alice Windsor all the way back in college, a period when the mind is worshipped, and the mind doesn't play a part in anything. As some of you might know, my mother died before I was 10, and my father did whatever he could to make my life worth living without her. Alcohol stood in the way of our functional relationship. By the time I'd graduated, family and friendship were nothing but stones and my feet. I'd forgotten what it was like to love, and what it felt to be loved. Cliche and dull as it may be, Alice taught me that no one is an island, and no matter how far you may be from the rest of the world, someone, somewhere, is going to send you a tiny, poorly made boat, trying to reach you, even if it's been years. She erased my 'Existence', and renamed it 'Life'. A man can single-handedly be successful, hold high positions in corporate banking, ensure his existence. But only with love, and hope, can he have a reason to live. A thousand years can pass, but our gratitude to Alice will never fade out, just for reminding me, and us all, of how amazing it is to be human."

His eulogy played like a poor quality audio tape in his head. He exhaled sharply, feeling his nose sting, and his head become heavy. An icy drop bounded down his cheek. Another fell on his left ear, making him fidget uncomfortably. The sun didn't hold out. Already, the hard surface of Alice's stone was becoming spotted. Sighing, he pulled out his umbrella and leaned it gently against his shoulder as he knelt onto the moist grass. The rain was not going to stop him from giving his message. He decided to start simple.

"Hi, Alice." He stupidly waited for a reply. Realising that he wouldn't get one, he continued.  
>"I took a half day to come and see you...work gets so boring these days, I can barely keep my eyes open. I hired a new secretary a while back. She's a sweet little girl…" He soon ran out of topics. Bony fingers clutched at the weak grass, slowly tearing them out from the roots. "You're in there.." he told the earth quietly. "Probably just bones...your blonde twirls are gone...I'll never see your eyes again…you're going to live in photographs, Alice...hell, you always hid your face in photographs. I wish I could see you...I wanted so much to tell you how much I love you one last time..." His voice got more and more dangerous with every word. It wasn't the raindrops that were streaming down his cheeks now. "Why did you leave so soon? Don't you know how hard it is to come back home and there's no one to hug you and laugh and make you smile? We were going to get married, too...we were so close to getting what people only dream of…"<p>

His throat blocked up, making him wheeze and wipe away his tears, grudgingly. "My parents are dead…your parents have forgotten…there's no one to make me feel loved…I want to feel loved…important…" The wind whistled violently as the rain poured down at an angle. "Fuck it. I'm going home..." he muttered to no one in particular.

Picking himself up, he forced his legs to drag him out of the godforsaken place, not bothering to look back a last time. The gate seemed to open by itself (although, it was the wind). His umbrella threatened to blow away in the wind, so he strengthened his grip on it and trudged on to see if he could make it back home.

* * *

><p>The morning had started out well for Antonio. As good as it could get. After their peaceful breakfast at The Dragon's Abode, Gilbert and Toni parted ways to try and scrounge up a bit of money. Their quotas were all different. Gil's was the highest, naturally, having a fairly steady job. Natalya's wasn't too far behind, but there was distance enough between the two figures to allow the German bragging rights. Toni was several leagues behind the two; he neither had a job nor much money to speak of. But he had friends, and a family back home in Valencia, whom he telephoned once every week. Most of the time, no one would pick up.<p>

Thank God, he'd learned how to play the guitar back in Spain. That piece of wood was the only thing that ensured his existence, and if he was lucky, he'd get an average of maybe 3 or 4 pounds a day. Combined with Natalya and Gilbert's money, it was enough. Of course, their contribution was more than his, but whatever.

He'd found a nice place to play a few minutes earlier, and had received four coins for his own personal rendition of the Cup Song on guitar. Eventually he realized that to play the song, an important necessity was the cups. So, he decided to walk around a little for inspiration and ideas and then begin his playing. He was so used to carrying the guitar bag slung on him that even a few hours of walking didn't have much of an effect on his shoulders.

After a nice, long walk of maybe an hour or so, he picked a nice sunny spot to lay down his mattress and start playing, before seeing a rather lost looking blonde across the street, looking around as though she'd dropped something. The only odd thing was that, she wasn't looking at the ground. She was looking at the sky. He tilted his head, trying to imagine what she was searching for, before calling out, "Miss! Do you need any help?"

Her clothes were odd considering the weather. Most wore coats, or sweaters, or something that'd keep them considerably protected if it began raining. The woman across the street was wearing a light pink, sleeveless dress that stopped right above her knees. She turned, and grinned upon seeing Antonio. Her face was rather odd. Her jawline was far too defined, her nose pointed at the tip, and eyes that dripped of sarcasm.

"Uh, yeah! I need to find this place. Like, someone told me that it was like, a left from the crossroad back there, but, like, if that was right, I wouldn't, like, be here, would I? So, could you, like help me?"  
>"Well, sure, why not? What's the address?" Antonio rubbed his feet on the pavement, to get the mud off his soles.<br>"I don't know, but I need to go the Bank of Hilton. I'm, like, going to meet the manager today for my new job!"  
>A pang spearing Toni right through the heart. She was getting something he desperately needed. "The Bank of…oh, si! I know which one you mean!" The Bank of Hilton's headquarters was where he'd bumped into the fancy gentleman earlier that morning.<br>"Great, but I don't have any money for a cab…but, do you, like, have a ride?"  
>He laughed. "I wish, señorita. but it's a short walk. You'll make it."<br>"I'm Czesława, by the way."  
>"Antonio."<br>"Oh, so, like, you're from Italy?"  
>"Spain. You're from…?"<br>"Poland. I've come to London to find a good job."  
>"I see. It's a nice place... well, that's what I have heard. I haven't been here long enough to say if it's good or bad. Only...what, 6 months?" He shrugged his shoulders slightly, motioning her to follow.<br>"You're right." The Polish lady agreed, walking along with Antonio. "So, you know every nook and corner of London by heart?" She asked, rhetorically. In any case, the answer would have been a given, anyways.  
>"Uh, kind of. It's like I grew up here."<br>"Impressive. I'm terrible with directions."  
>The small talk almost awkwardly continued as they walked toward the crossroad.<br>"So, what's this job of yours?"  
>"Well, I have a masters in communication , so I'm going to be a promoter, basically. Like, a cross between hiring agent and promoter."<br>"Interesting."  
>"So, what do you do?"<br>"I…play guitar. I have a masters in Fine Arts, but I don't really have a steady job. Every now and then, I get hired by a theater. It gives me enough money to manage."  
>"So, you're like...a vagabond!'<br>"Huh?"  
>"A vagabond! Someone who just wanders, not knowing where he's gonna go!"<br>Toni shrugged. In her eyes, it might've meant a compliment, but in reality, his life was far worse than the romanticized, literary vagabond. "So, when did you move here from Poland?"  
>"Two weeks ago."<br>"And you've already been hired? Your luck is better than a lot of peoples'."

Antonio was mildly uneasy about entering the upscale district again, in his baggy white t-shirt and tattered jeans. Every now and then, Gil and Natalya would pool in money for a Laundromat, so that his clothes would stay clean. Not extremely clean, but sanitized. He was surprised that the Polish woman, in her fancy pink outfit, didn't mind walking with him.

He stopped outside the formidable gate that guarded a decent chunk of the nation's wealth. It was almost always guarded, even in broad daylight, as though it held the philosopher's stone. The guard was glaring at him from his stuffy blue outfit, making him look like a peacock that'd been denied a meal. Antonio stuck his tongue out jokingly at him. "Well, I'll leave you here..?"

She nodded. "Thank you! I'll just go in for the-oof!" She bumped into a young lady who was hurriedly leaving her office. Her dress shirt was untucked, and her heels were struggling to balance themselves on the ground. "Sorry! Sorry! I am so sorry!" She had a rather soft voice.

Czesława blinked before letting out a chuckle. "Where's the fire?"

"Oh, no, there's no fire!" Loose, curly strands of honey-blonde hair bounced up and down as she shuffled awkwardly. "I just need to make the most of my break~ I only have it for another 6 minutes! Goodbye, and I'm so sorry!"

She ran off into the street, slowly disappearing into the orderly stream of people. Toni let out a chuckle and mumbled, "Everyone's busy these days," in a tone quiet enough for only him to hear. "Bye Czesława!" The young woman grinned and waved back at him enthusiastically before sprinting up to the building, in a manner that was anything but ladylike.

Her words were, meanwhile, slowly sinking into his fairly simple brain. She was going to meet the manager for a job. Maybe the bank was hiring. Still, she could've gotten it a while ago. No, if she had, then she'd have been far more anxious about getting lost. She had probably only gotten it a few days back. If the bank was holding walk-in interviews, he had a chance. There had to be some job in the bank that didn't require qualifications. He'd settle for janitor if he got it. The Bank of Hilton was so prestigious that the average member of cleaning staff would be paid like a restaurateur. It almost seemed worth getting kicked out of the bank.

Straightening up his shirt, Antonio tucked it in his jeans and brushed them off. He left his guitar bag outside the steps leading up to the front doors, not concerned about whether someone would steal them. "Alright, Toni, make the most of this."

He jogged up the steps, and was just about to go through the doors when the guard stopped him. "Where are you going, mister?" he asked in an accent fancier than a 18th century landlord's. Antonio grinned at him confidently, his back straight. "There are walk-in interviews happening today, right?"

The guard gruffly nodded." You're planning to go for one? Don't you know that formal attire is necessary for the meeting?" With a laugh, the Spaniard replied, "Trust me, my man, if I had formal attire, I would wear it! Now, I must go to my future! Adiós!"

Without bothering to wait for the guard to respond, he pushed through the glass doors and stepped into the bank, immediately bracing for a burst of cold wind from the air conditioners. From the outside, it looked like it was from the 1980s (estd. In 1985, the sign boasted). On the inside, the cold steel walls and lack of windows intimidated Toni, and the beautiful cream carpet that he was soiling with his sneakers gave him anxiety.

The receptionist looked up at him and immediately grimaced. "Young man, why are you here?" Her voice was condescending to the extreme.

"I heard there were walk-in interviews happening today?" She recoiled a little in mild disgust.  
>"You're going to try for a job at this bank?"<br>"Uh, si!"  
>"You won't get it. Why are you even trying?"<br>Antonio paused for a moment. There was a lot of truth in her statement. He shrugged. "I need to have some hope, lady."  
>"The interviews are happening there." She pointed at the door to her right. "Be careful, and don't get too snappy. Mr. Kirkland's gone through several applicants, and is in a bad mood."<br>"Kirkland? Fancy name."  
>"Don't tell him that."<br>"What, it's a compliment! Anyway, gracias!"

He jogged over to the door and dodged a woman in uniform with a pretty, black bob, pushing a cart full of mail. She smiled at him apologetically. "Terribly sorry~" her voice was strongly accented, but somehow charming. "It's okay!" He pushed through the door before it could close, and immediately found a chair in the very center of the room. It was standing alone, almost desolate looking, and Antonio gave it a pitiful look.

"What are you waiting for? Sit down!" called out an irritated voice. A young man his age was leaning backward on a chair, tapping his pen on the table, practically drowning in ennui. His blond hair was neatly combed at the scalp, but still a bit spiky and rebellious at the tips. His eyebrows were an inch thick, and rather dark compared to his hair. What surprised Antonio most were his eyes. They were just a slight lighter than his, but otherwise, the green was almost identical. He must have been staring rather indecently, for the interviewer tilted his head a bit in confusion. "What is it? Something on my face?"

Toni shook his head and sat down. "Sorry."  
>"Your qualifications?"<br>"Huh?"  
>"If you're going to apply for the job of researcher I trust you have qualifications."<br>"Oh...er, I wasn't here for the job of researcher. I was just wondering if you might have a simple position open. You know, receptionist, mail deliverer, anything like that?"  
>"Those interviews weren't being held. Not at the moment, at least, Mr...?"<br>"Carriedo. And, it's okay, but do you know somewhere they are being held?"  
>"They aren't being held. None the positions in the bank are vacant except for researcher."<br>"Okay, um, what are the qualifications for it?"  
>"A Masters in economics and a bachelor's, at least, in statistics. Not to mention a year of practical coaching at the London School of Economics."<br>Antonio's ship was shot down the second it set sail. "Oh, well then...I'm sorry for wasting your time..."  
>With a smile that just didn't reach as far as it could've, the interviewer mumbled, "It's alright, kudos for your guts."<p>

With a solemn nod, the Spaniard got up and slinked away to the door. As he was leaving the bank, he tucked out his shirt, causing the peacock at the front door to let out a hiss. "Honestly, have you no sense of shame?"

His head bent, Antonio exhaled deeply before looking back at the guard, his lips forming a slow grin. "Not really."

* * *

><p>It soon dawned upon Arthur that blinking rapidly was not going to make his tears go away. If anything, it actually made them flow faster. He rushed out of the cemetery at top speed, letting out an involuntary moan of despair that made a few passerby stare in shock. Damn him, damn the rain. He should've stayed. He should've told her how much he loved her, but his anger and regret swamped out every other emotion. He just needed to go home and sob in misery, peacefully alone. The only issue was that his home was a fairly long walk from where he was, and he didn't want to be seen.<p>

He lowered his umbrella and raised his head, so much so that the fabric of the umbrella was grazing his scalp as he walked as quickly as he could. Was he even going to be able to make it to work tomorrow? Where did he work? His clear, chiselled out stream of thoughts had become a constant, disorganized flow. What was he going to do once he got home? Just hit the hay, maybe eat a bit of the previous night's meat pudding?

He coughed loudly and placed a hand on his chest, thumping it. An accumulation of phlegm was making it difficult to breathe in the air, which was already humid and icy. The constant screech of rain almost made him want to block his ears, and maybe be careful when it came to his shoes. There was a centimetre thick layer of mud on each of the soles, especially in the soil of the cemetery, and it was irritating him. As soon as he spotted an awning, he closed up his umbrella and stood under it as quickly as possible.

He leaned against the shop window, sighing and sniffling to clear his airways. He grimaced, in an attempt to loosen up his cheeks, which were now sticky with his tears. He gruffly wiped them off. Figuring he had about 3 minutes before the shop's owner asked him to take a nap somewhere else, he closed his eyes and tried to forget the sound and smell of the rain. It was the nicest he had felt for a while, just meditating in his own little world.

"Oh, hola!" A cheery voice chirped in his general direction.

A small grunt escaped him, and his eyes blinked a few times before spotting a familiar shape. Floppy, wet, dark hair, bronzed skin, but bright eyes, and a small smile. The fellow who'd come in for the interviews.

"Hello again," muttered Arthur. He hoped that the person would leave without feeling the need for conversation, but when did things start going Arthur's way?  
>"So, got stuck in the rain too, huh?" The brunet skipped over to the shop and braced himself on the window as well.<br>"Oh," He managed. "No...I...I have an umbrella." He held it up to emphasize. However, the second didn't have one. "Where're you headed?"  
>"Heard of The Dragon's Abode?"<br>The Brit vaguely recalled a name like that in the city building permits. "Oh, right! It's that little Chinese or Japanese or whatever restaurant, right? You work there?"  
>"No, I have to meet up with my friends. We always meet up there."<p>

Something about his tone obviously implied that he met up with his friends often, which made Arthur a bit suspicious. Judging by the fact that he was completely clueless about the bank's jobs, and oblivious to the state of his clothes, he couldn't help but wonder if the brunet was a druggie or a drunkard. Of course, the odds were astronomical, but there was always a nagging thought of the sort in the blond's mind.

"My place is nearby. If you want, I could drop you off."  
>The brunet grinned. "Oh, gracias, mister! That'd be really nice of you."<br>"Don't mention it." Footsteps resounded from inside the store. "We should leave before we're ejected forcibly." He unfurled his umbrella and raised it far higher than before.

They slipped out from under the awning, thankfully unnoticed by the shopkeeper. The rain immediately seemed to get a bit less intimidating, just a little closer to sunshine. For some reason unknown to Arthur, his companion was smiling and taking easy steps, as though he was at the beach.

"I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, by the way!"  
>A stiff nod of acknowledgement. "I'm Arthur Kirkland. Pleasure."<br>"The pleasure is mine! So, you work at the Bank of Hilton?"  
>"Yes, I do indeed. Thought it'd be pretty obvious." Depression couldn't stop Arthur's slight sarcasm.<br>"I guess. So you live alone, Mr. Kirkland?" Now he was beginning to encroach on private territory.  
>"Yes, yes, I do." His voice was cautious, begging for Antonio to not continue.<br>"Ah, I see. Do you have any pets?" He'd completely fallen off topic.  
>"I used to have a dog, but I gave him away. I felt like I was neglecting him too much in favor of work." A blatant lie. He gave Sebastian away because it reminded him too much of Alice.<br>"Work does get in the way of love and friendship, I guess."  
>Arthur chuckled humorlessly. "You wouldn't know." He immediately bit his lip. Maybe it was too rude for a second encounter.<br>"I wouldn't!" Antonio laughed, making Arthur feel small in his presence (even though they were exactly the same height). Was the brunet pretending to laugh while hiding how offended he was?

A car passed by on the road to their left, splashing Antonio's pants with water, exactly like they had Arthur's in the morning. This drew out a small smile, as the brunet groaned.

"Gil is going to kill me!"  
>"Who's Gil?" asked Arthur politely.<br>"Just a friend. Who's also a neat freak."

Arthur would've passed by his apartment had he not looked the other way. It really had been months since he was so caught up in conversing that he'd forget where he was. However, Antonio had a long way to go, and since his pants were already soiled, the blond had to feel a bit of pity for him.

"This is my stop."  
>"Oh, it is? Bye, then!"<br>"You're going to get wet," he mumbled while closing up his umbrella. "Take this, I have others."  
>Antonio seemed to be struck dumb by this. "But, mister, I won't be able to return it to you."<br>"It's alright, it's a matter of who needs it more. Take it." He extended his arm further, and waited till Antonio hesitantly reached for it. "Gracias…"

"No problem. Stay safe!" Having had his fill of conversation, he rushed into the building as quickly as possible, finding the elevator blissfully on the ground floor. He practically smashed the button to the 4th floor, and rested against one of the walls of the elevator as it rose slowly. Why was he smiling? Had he forgotten about his late wife? He hadn't, but he was going to. "Alice Windsor," he breathed. "I'm going to move on." He shut his eyes as the elevator let out a beep. "For you."

* * *

><p>AN: Wow, I'm so happy that the first chapter received such wonderful feedback! Thank you so much! School has started again and therefore, I have had so much to do that I practically shut down. I've got an arsenal of new ideas, but you'll have to wait, since I'll be out of action this November. I've explained why in my profile.


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